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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081893">ephemera left behind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee'>fangirl_squee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Friends at the Table (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, brief appearances by thisbe and leap, spoilers for up to partizan episode 29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:07:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clementine Kesh is gone, and Clementine Kesh remains, or at least, to Sovereign Immunity she might be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clementine Kesh &amp; Sovereign Immunity, Gucci Garantine/Clementine Kesh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ephemera left behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, I continue to be sad about Clementine Kesh.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Oxbridge is, in it’s own way, a beautiful place. Sovereign Immunity’s first thought, immediate and painful, is to assess how best to present it to Clem before he shakes off the impulse. He doesn’t need to parse things for Kesh anymore, doesn’t need to cajole and negotiate, doesn’t need to reframe the current narrative into something pleasing to a monarchy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a tough habit to break, even though it shouldn’t be. Clementine was a failed project, her death as messy and politically meaningless as her life had been, and yet still sometimes he catches sight of a slip of stark white fabric on someone’s clothes out of the corner of his eye, or a flash of blonde hair, and his mind readies itself against the anticipated Kesh sighting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, when that happens, Gucci catches his eye from across the meeting room before she looks away. They don’t speak of it, or of Clementine. Even after her funeral there is both too much and not enough to say. Her mother’s eulogy had hardly been fitting, but he wasn’t really in a position to be able to give a better one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The night after they get back from that mission he feels tired down to his bones, only going over the basics of they’ve gleaned with the others on the council before he makes his way to his room, collapsing into bed, still dressed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hours have passed when he next opens his eyes, his head still fuzzy with tiredness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s water on the floor, reflecting the spotlights of the patrols outside. Sovereign frowns, going still as his eyes follow the water to its source in the corner of the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There is someone else in the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lets out a slow breath, attempting to feign sleep, trying to make them out without giving himself away. The figure moves in the darkened room, a slip of a thing, water dripping from her white coat as she steps towards the bed. Sovereign holds his breath until the figure is an arm’s length away, opening his eyes a little wider to see their face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Clementine Kesh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a ringing in his ears as she bends closer. Her hair is slicked to her head with water and blood, staining the collar of her jacket pink. She reaches out towards him, and Sovereign flinches back, pushing himself up on the bed and rolling away to reach for his closest weapon, a knife taped under the bed frame. When he jumps up she’s nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gives the bed a wide berth, stepping towards the light and flicking it on and ducking down to look under the bed. There’s no sign of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s not, he notes, a chill creeping up his spine, even a trace of water on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign checks the room over again, pulling open even the smallest closets and cupboards that his room holds, but there is nothing but his own scant possessions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lies down again, but sleep does not return. He can’t stop looking over at the seat in the corner of the room, still empty no matter how often he sits up and turns the lights on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning the floor is still dry, and he pushes thoughts of it aside. He’s far too old to be troubled by nightmares.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nightmares, apparently, are unaware of this. When he wakes the next morning his eyes flicker open and go immediately to the corner of the room, his blood going cold at the figure in the white coat. She’s not looking at him this time, raising her hand to the wound on her head and frowning as her fingers come away coated in blood. She rubs her fingertips together, as though she were trying to determine the substance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Clementine?” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His voice is barely a whisper, but he can still hear the tremble in it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looks up, blinking as though she has only just noticed his presence. Her hands flutter down to her lap, her back straightening into the proper posture for a Kesh noblewoman. It’s a series of movements he saw her go through often, holding herself to stiff attention for hours through meetings and mech runs. His throat aches sharply and he swallows, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, she’s gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign lets out a breath. He pulls himself out of bed and heads to the Deep Dish Steak House. He’d rather doze hunched over a cup of coffee than try to fall asleep here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She follows him, the next day, always in the corner of her eye. He wonders if the flickers of white fabric had been her too, before. Perhaps the feeling that Kesh was close by had been warranted after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a smell, too - the dried flowers Kesh nobles favoured keeping in their clothing trunks for travel, mixed with salt water and the coppery tang of blood. He catches a whiff of it and pushes his plate of food away, his stomach turning. He looks around but there’s nobody there that shouldn’t be, and the only thing the action does is make Thisbe give him a considering look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign presses his lips together. Thisbe is close to Valence and Broun, but she doesn’t seem like the type to gossip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thisbe,” Sovereign begins cautiously, “You have like, the tech required to pick up frequencies, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It depends what frequencies,” says Thisbe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It you require information transmitted you would be better off speaking to Operant Broun, or Gucci Garantine-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” says Sovereign quickly, “No, that’s- I was just making conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” says Thisbe, and falls peacefully silent again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>White flickers in the corner of his vision, accompanied by the uncanny sensation of someone standing behind him. Sovereign stands quickly, not bothering to collect his plate as he rushes from the room. Several people give him odd looks, including one of the servers. The flicker of white follows too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. She’s not really there. Even if there was a ghost of her, surely it would be attached to Fort Icebreaker and not to him. He had been nothing to her, even at the end, when he’d tried to help-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He catches sight of a pale hand, reaching for him, and flinches. The hand disappears in-between blinks and he wheels around, trying to catch sight of her. The corridor behind him is empty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>People. Safety in numbers. He needs to get somewhere where there’s other people.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a large common space next to the Deep Dish Steak House that they sometimes use for overflow seating, benches interspersed with screens playing the news and old movies. Sovereign takes a seat towards the edge of the area, trying to slow his heart as he glances around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Crysanth’s voice sounds behind him, making him jump and he turns in time to see one of the server’s muting the channel, the screen automatically adding captions. He watches the replay of her eulogy, his stomach twisting as Crysanth’s eyes well with tears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, someone gives a derisive snort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have always disliked her speeches about me, you know,” says Clementine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign’s fingers curl around the edge of the bench seat. He forces himself not to turn his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And they chose such boring photos of me,” continues Clementine, “I wish they’d added the one of myself and Gucci at our cotillion. I kept dancing with Gucci instead of whoever she kept trying to foist me onto, and I got into such </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreadful </span>
  </em>
  <span>trouble over it.” She pauses. “It was a wonderful night, all told. I would have liked to see it again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wets his lips. “Is that why you’re here? Photo choices?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I’m not really here, am I?” says Clem, “I’m somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turns his head sharply. There’s no sign of her, just the faint scent of dried flowers and salt water in the air. Sovereign rubs a hand over his face. It was probably time to call an expert.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow you’re not having much luck,” says Leap, “First you go to Fort Icebreaker and it’s haunted and then you go to Oxbridge and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> haunted too. You think it’s the same ghost?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s- I don’t think so,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s probably best, he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell Leap who’s ghost it is. He doubts that Leap could be objective.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I probably can’t get there for a while,” says Leap, “Even if I left right now it’d probably take uslike a week to make it through everything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s- it’s fine, I think I’ve- I mean, I’ve got it,” says Sovereign, “I was more just, y’know, looking for advice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Leap, sounding pleased.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign can so clearly picture the grin on his face that it makes him smile in response, relaxing back into the console chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess if you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is the next thing is to figure out what it wants,” says Leap, “if you want it to just like, go away.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign wrinkles his nose. “That… might be difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well yeah, obviously,” says Leap, “If it was easy </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> would do it.” He hums thoughtfully, the line crackling the static, reminding Sovereign of the distance between them. “I mean, even if you just like, acted like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> get it what it wanted, that might be enough to stop it from hassling you in the night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't know if that will be any easier,” said Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bustin’ ghosts ain’t easy,” says Leap, “Hey, uh, I have to go, we’re kind of- we’re almost at the ship we’re about to uh, relieve of their stocks, so uh- I’ll call you later?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” says Sovereign, “Good luck out there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leap laughs, bright even through the bad line. “I don’t need luck, but thanks!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign looks at the communicator for a long moment before he hangs up. The thought of offering Clem the Princept’s throne makes his stomach squirm. It’s hardly an option, and surely even in whatever state she’s in now she’s realised it’s a fruitless effort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There are other things though. Things that might be a decent compromise. He was with Kesh a long time and he knows what they think, the way their desires lean towards certain things. Ambition. Revenge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smell of saltwater follows him through the darkened walkways of Oxbridge. He tries to pick somewhere he feels steady, the emotional high ground, ending up at the foot of his mech.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clementine’s is here too, somewhere, on permanent loan to AO Rooke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “I’m here to make you an offer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence greets him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t- the throne is impossible, but I- there’s something else I can give you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A flicker of white at the edge of his vision cuts through the stillness of the mechyard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign swallows down his nerves, taking another steadying breath. “I will kill Crysanth Kesh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That hardly seems as though it would help the broader situation,” says Clementine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” says Sovereign, “but it'll make me feel better."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He can see the tilt of Clementine’s head out of the corner of his eye. "Yes, but that’s not really the point, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turns sharply, taking a step back as the white figure in front of his is overlaid in red.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sovereign?” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He puts a hand on his chest, feeling the racing thud of his heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She huffs a laugh. “Sorry, I- what are you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> down here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- just- checking on my mech.” He pats the leg of his mech, the sound echoing dully in the hanger space.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I could ask the same of you,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci goes still. “Nothing, I- just taking a walk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In the dark mechbay,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can see just fine,” says Gucci, “and you didn’t turn the lights on either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you said,” says Sovereign, “You can see just fine in here without them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci hums, clearly not believing him any more than he believes her. Now that his eyes have adjusted to the dark, he can see how tired she looks. There’s a gilded frame in her hands, held pressed close to her chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gucci,” says Sovereign softly, “Why did you come down here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci opens her mouth and closes it again, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I… I couldn’t- it would have been ill-advised to attend her funeral, of course, not that I wanted to, she was-” she swallows, taking a quick breath in “-awful, obviously, the only people in attendance there had barely met her, or they- they didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. Not like-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She breaks off, swallowing again, blinking rapidly as she looks down at her feet. Sovereign takes half a step forward, almost raising his arms before he thinks better of it. He looks up at the mechs above them, giving her the pretence of privacy to collect herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci takes a shaky breath in. “I was-” She gives a watery laugh. “I suppose I was coming to say goodbye to the one thing of her’s that’s left.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign nods. “Do you… want company?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci swallows. “I don’t- I can’t ask you to mourn her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re not,” says Sovereign, “that’s not what I asked.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci gives him a shaky smile. “Then- sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They walk together towards the Panther, looking up at the jagged remains of its wings, still in the process of being repaired. Gucci presses her lips together, looking down at the photo in her hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a small one, not much larger than a postcard, of two young women in white dresses. Gucci and Clementine, realises Sovereign. The red flowers fixed in an untidy bunch around Clementine’s wrist are the same of the ones decorating Gucci’s hair. They’re both smiling at the camera, practised but shockingly genuine. He doesn’t think he ever saw Clementine look so happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci lets out a slow breath. “She- We were supposed to have assigned dance partners, but she kept- She </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted</span>
  </em>
  <span> on dancing with me, which she wasn’t... </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she only ever went to half the practise sessions and ever then…” The hand holding the photo trembles slightly. “It was still fun though, sneaking out to the balcony after every song to get away from her mother. Not a bad night, really. She could be like that, sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign nods, looking back up at the Panther as Gucci discreetly wipes her eyes. There’s a flicker of white to the side and Sovereign curls his toes, stopping himself from reacting outwardly. If Gucci notices, she must do the same, taking a slow breath in before she tucks the photo back inside her jacket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” says Gucci.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” says Sovereign, “But for what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For not…” Gucci waves her hand. “For not thinking worse of me for… this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign puts a hand on her shoulder, feeling Gucci’s muscles tense and relax under his hand. “Whatever else she was, she was your friend. You knew her as her better self more than the rest of us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gucci huffs a laugh. “Maybe.” She pauses, her fingers flexing. “You- talked to her, before… Before, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did, we-” He swallows around the sharp ache in his throat. “It wasn’t exactly a pleasant conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oddly, a smile flickers across Gucci’s face. “Yes, she said you did that.” She pauses. “I think she liked that about you, even if she would never have said so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She certainly didn’t act like it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well of course not,” says Gucci, “But she… you know, you were the first person to explain to her why she should bother practising.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign blinks. “That’s… are you serious?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the first one she listened to, anyway,” says Gucci, “She only ever listens to people she likes. She’s funny that way.” The smile fades from Gucci’s face. “She was, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess she was,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He walks with her out of the mechbay, followed by the heavy scent of salt water, and watches as Gucci heads in the direction of her rooms. The flicker of white stays by his side for a moment and then drifts away, leaving a trail of water behind it. Sovereign presses his lips together, and then follows, through the hallways and corridors of Oxbridge to the landing platform.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The docks below him are tinged with the red-orange light of sunset. Clementine stands alone with one hand resting on the railing, her hair and clothes still dripping and unaffected by the wind. He steps beside her, both of them looking out over the water. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Was I really the first person to tell you to practise?” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” says Clementine, “But you- it sounded more like something that was actually possible, when you said it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it’s possible, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>practising</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A shame you weren’t one of my tutors growing up, then,” says Clementine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ache in Sovereign’s throat sinks into his chest. He’d been gone by the time she was old enough for that, of course. By the time their lives had crossed again she’d already decided who she was going to be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he manages, “I guess it was.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A ship drifts by in the distance and Sovereign’s eyes follow it. It’s a fishing boat maybe, or perhaps a smuggler disguised as one, leaving a ripple behind in its wake before the water returns to stillness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think she’d still think of it,” says Clementine after a moment, “It wasn’t- I mean, it was a lovely evening, but not particularly memorable.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You remembered it,” says Sovereign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clementine swallows. “I suppose I did.” she pauses. "Do you think she… do you think she'll keep it?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about the tremble in Gucci's usually-steady voice, the way she had tucked the photo into her jacket, secret and safe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, I think so."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Good," said Clementine, "Someone should keep it. It's one of the better ones of me."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sovereign thought of Clementine's bright, real smile in the photograph, about to be in trouble and not caring in the slightest, flowers from Gucci tied proudly to her wrist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah," said Sovereign, "it is."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stand together as the sun slips under the horizon. When Sovereign glances to the space she had been standing it’s empty, a single white hand print burned into the metal. He swallows, looking down at it for a moment before he turns to return the Oxbridge proper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smell of flowers and seawater doesn’t follow him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come say hi: mariusperkins on most places</p></blockquote></div></div>
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